At Least He's Not On Fire: A Tour of the Things That Escape My Head by Chris Philbrook Page B
Authors: Chris Philbrook
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they were out with Kopassus, the Indonesian Special Forces group with the shady past. To help heal some wounds to the trust between the training units, the leader of the Kopassus unit offered to take the Green Berets to a nearly lost temple deep in the jungle. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and the unit couldn't say no. There were too many political ramifications of offending the host country, and that's not what Green Berets did.
"Candi, Candi!" the Indonesian military men said, pointing through the impenetrable jungle. Candi was their word for temple.
"Temple? Yeah?" Anton had asked.
"Temple, yes. Candi! Big Candi!" the young soldier said back to Anton. The little Indonesian man couldn't have been more than twenty, but you could never really know how old they were. It seemed like they just got smaller as they aged, not wrinklier. He imagined a nation of tiny Indonesians running underfoot.
The Candi was small by Anton's judgment. They'd just visited the massive complex of Borobudur on the island of Java, and that was something. This little temple was no bigger than a two story house from the UP, but damn it did look old. Anton and his unit, led by their veteran team Captain followed the tiny Kopassus men down a hill into a depression between several hills in the rainforest. The leaf cover above was near total; the temple was only lit by tiny rays of sunlight that pierced holes in the leaves above like javelins sent from God. It was a surreal scene for Anton long before the hole became a part of the story.
The Kopassus men showed the Green Berets around the ancient temple, chattering in their language faster than the Americans could keep up, happy and excited to be sharing something so old and so important from their past. The Americans were delighted as well, sharing relieved expressions and groans of sore muscles. The temple meant time to sit and rest.
"Quite the place huh?" Sergeant Giancola asked as the two Green Berets took up security at the top of one of the small hills that formed the depression. The jungle here was empty of human threats, but they followed protocol anyway. Repetition in times of safety was important for building good habits in times of strife.
"Yeah. Reminds me of a museum I never go to back at home," Anton had said back. The two men chuckled, and went back to comfortable silence.
Ten minutes later one of the other men in the team came up the hill and tapped Anton on the shoulder. He was a hulking brute of a man with rippling muscles and a neck almost as wide as his shoulders. The guys on the team called him The Thing. "Go check the place out, I'll cover this. It's creepy as fuck. Really weird etchings in the stone. Gargoyles and shit."
Anton had nodded, thanked The Thing, and trotted down the hill to do as he was told. As soon as he entered, he knew the Sergeant was right; the temple was as creepy as fuck. On all four corners of the two story, cone shaped building were carvings and faded paintings of creatures that had to have been dreamt of. Worms with teeth the size of a man's hand sprouted from the earth and ate tiny figures of men who were running away, wild and fearful. Frescos and carvings depicted winged beasts sweeping down from cloud filled skies riding bolts of lightning that split rocks and sundered men and women alike. It was a vengeful scene, filled with wrath and ruin. It was a prophecy, but no one in the temple that day knew that yet.
"This ain't no Hindu temple," the team's Warrant Officer said with a strong Alabama accent. Anton wondered if he would even know what a real Hindu temple looked like. The WO answered the question immediately, "I've seen lots of Hindu temples in my time, and this ain't one, not by a long shot. This is like, satanic shit. Lovecraft shit. Ex-wife shit."
The Americans laughed. The tiny Indonesians had no idea what he was talking about but laughed along with them. Once the laughter faded, the local soldiers tried to explain the temple
"Candi, Candi!" the Indonesian military men said, pointing through the impenetrable jungle. Candi was their word for temple.
"Temple? Yeah?" Anton had asked.
"Temple, yes. Candi! Big Candi!" the young soldier said back to Anton. The little Indonesian man couldn't have been more than twenty, but you could never really know how old they were. It seemed like they just got smaller as they aged, not wrinklier. He imagined a nation of tiny Indonesians running underfoot.
The Candi was small by Anton's judgment. They'd just visited the massive complex of Borobudur on the island of Java, and that was something. This little temple was no bigger than a two story house from the UP, but damn it did look old. Anton and his unit, led by their veteran team Captain followed the tiny Kopassus men down a hill into a depression between several hills in the rainforest. The leaf cover above was near total; the temple was only lit by tiny rays of sunlight that pierced holes in the leaves above like javelins sent from God. It was a surreal scene for Anton long before the hole became a part of the story.
The Kopassus men showed the Green Berets around the ancient temple, chattering in their language faster than the Americans could keep up, happy and excited to be sharing something so old and so important from their past. The Americans were delighted as well, sharing relieved expressions and groans of sore muscles. The temple meant time to sit and rest.
"Quite the place huh?" Sergeant Giancola asked as the two Green Berets took up security at the top of one of the small hills that formed the depression. The jungle here was empty of human threats, but they followed protocol anyway. Repetition in times of safety was important for building good habits in times of strife.
"Yeah. Reminds me of a museum I never go to back at home," Anton had said back. The two men chuckled, and went back to comfortable silence.
Ten minutes later one of the other men in the team came up the hill and tapped Anton on the shoulder. He was a hulking brute of a man with rippling muscles and a neck almost as wide as his shoulders. The guys on the team called him The Thing. "Go check the place out, I'll cover this. It's creepy as fuck. Really weird etchings in the stone. Gargoyles and shit."
Anton had nodded, thanked The Thing, and trotted down the hill to do as he was told. As soon as he entered, he knew the Sergeant was right; the temple was as creepy as fuck. On all four corners of the two story, cone shaped building were carvings and faded paintings of creatures that had to have been dreamt of. Worms with teeth the size of a man's hand sprouted from the earth and ate tiny figures of men who were running away, wild and fearful. Frescos and carvings depicted winged beasts sweeping down from cloud filled skies riding bolts of lightning that split rocks and sundered men and women alike. It was a vengeful scene, filled with wrath and ruin. It was a prophecy, but no one in the temple that day knew that yet.
"This ain't no Hindu temple," the team's Warrant Officer said with a strong Alabama accent. Anton wondered if he would even know what a real Hindu temple looked like. The WO answered the question immediately, "I've seen lots of Hindu temples in my time, and this ain't one, not by a long shot. This is like, satanic shit. Lovecraft shit. Ex-wife shit."
The Americans laughed. The tiny Indonesians had no idea what he was talking about but laughed along with them. Once the laughter faded, the local soldiers tried to explain the temple
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